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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953237">Waking Nights</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/XXMonty/pseuds/XXMonty'>XXMonty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), dreamnotfound - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Fear, Friends to Lovers, Gay thoughts are hefty, Georgewastaken, Green Boy, Hallucinations, Imagine getting up at 3 am for ur bestie, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Lust, M/M, Making the mask the enemy, dreamnotfound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:33:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/XXMonty/pseuds/XXMonty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One split second of monumental clarity. With this clarity comes back-breaking punishment, as Dream begins to only sleep an hour at best for every day, drowning in the misery of hallucination- inducing insomnia. Facing an upwards battle with himself, he suffers the internal war of his enthralled mind, heart, and body, over one certain friend of his. a desperate battle to escape his sleepless nights of torment he finds he can’t contain his feelings for George much longer before everything starts to unravel for one tired green boy.</p><p>__<br/>Inspired by the sweetest of brainrots Heatwaves by Tbhyourelame had to offer</p><p>If the CC’s ever state this makes the uncomfortable it will be immediately removed. I value their friendship over anything else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay| Dream (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hot Sugar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi!<br/>Wow, Am I excited to finally release the first chapter.<br/>This started as a feverous moment of supposed ADHD-- fueled by Heatwaves brainrot and the glass animals.<br/>Yes, I really did write this because I couldn't get the idea of Heatwaves out of my head, but what's more= it brought ideas it enticed me to explore.<br/>Absolute art.<br/>Heatwaves and Tbhyourelame are absolutely to thank for this inspiration to write this. In a way, this has been therapeutic, finally being able to concentrate my energy and attention on one thing, so thank you for that. </p><p>Anyway, I hope you enjoy my take on the Dreamnotfound ship<br/>Give them both a listen and try and interpret why I chose these two!<br/>Btw: You can find updates and canon art I do for my fic on my Instagram @_rainyourparade_<br/>AND<br/>My Beta Reader is: CaptainOfRed on here! Check her out!<br/>The entire book's song(s) are Pork Soda by the Glass Animals,<br/>and<br/>Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde.<br/>--Give both a worth-it listen.</p><p>Now, I present: Waking Hours...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dream leaned back in his chair with a drawn-out yawn, his brow forcibly crooked at an angle to dramatize his expression -- not that anyone was around to see. Weariness drenched him like the bitter sweat soaking his clothes. His stomach churned; whether an effect of rampant embarrassment or his nap, he wasn’t sure. Dream sighed in agitation and tilted his head, staring at the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he sat up a bit, groaning at the stiffness in his limbs -- a consequence of sleeping in his chair. As he recollected his senses, his gaze drifted down his arms and further to his hands. With equal guilt and longing, he wished to return to the dream state of moments ago.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still slightly woozy, Dream counted every way he knew the room was real -- the texture of his chair scraping his fingertips, the weight of his cotton hoodie. This reality was unsatisfying. Dream vastly preferred where he had been before: sleep cocooning him like the return of an old friend and his mind actively concocting an…</span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span> imagination. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His attention had drifted from the bright computer screen and off to the side, where he simply slipped out of consciousness. His entire skull pounded, incapable of keeping pace with nearly four sleepless nights. He was drowning under the spell of insomnia. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He wondered how he had gotten here, to this hell…this limbo. If Dream honestly searched himself, he could locate the true, irrational reason. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream dragged his hands aggressively down his face. He distantly knew this swirling world wasn’t where he was supposed to be -- but he also knew he was in too deep. It was clear in the way his bedroom blurred around him. The twirling made him slightly sick. As he lifted his hands to collect his bearings, he noticed how he shifted in symphony with his room, distorted by rolling waves. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream licked at his dry, cracked lips, trying to make sense of the hallucinatory plane he was enveloped within. As his chest cried for escape, his muddled brain dismissed it, accepting this smear of color as its waking world. Deep down, Dream knew he should break free of this reverie.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had to get out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream pinched the skin of his arm tightly, but to no avail. He only provoked himself into wincing. Dream let out a frustrated groan. Maybe moving…? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream seized the armrests to steady his body and pushed, preparing his legs to stand -- but nothing happened. He remained completely stiff. It was like a case of sleep paralysis. His eyes darted up nervously, but he saw no looming demon. He was glued to his chair, trapped in his waking body. He couldn’t escape. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A flicker of annoyance pierced through Dream’s anxiety. He searched the room for a hint of how long he would be trapped like this, but this was the worst part of the dream world: it was unpredictable. Dream wondered if this imprisonment was a punishment for his inability to find sleep. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Why?</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> Dream asked himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Why can’t I just </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>sleep?</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As he wracked his mind for an answer and found none, his fear grew. His distress manifested as quaking breath and shaking hands. Racing thoughts made the room spin harder and faster. Fright filled his lungs like water -- he took in involuntary gulps and no matter how hard he tried to resurface, the waves drew him deeper, further. Further in alarm, dread, uncertainty. Feelings he couldn’t handle alone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream grasped at straws. He </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>knew </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>this wasn’t real, but that didn’t make the experience any less terrifying. Black spots flickered at the edges of Dream’s vision -- his anxieties were overcoming him. A strangled cry escaped Dream’s throat; his hands raised to at least hide his face from the horror of his mind eating away at him, given free range by this nonsensical realm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Dream.”</span></em> <em><span>Eerily, the room immediately stilled. </span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream could feel warm, comforting breath on his neck. A relieved breath rattled from his lungs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“George?” He whispered -- Dream knew it had to be him. Suddenly, his legs found enough power and freedom to swivel his chair around. In a second, Dream was facing his friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>George stood before him, small but bearing undeniable power in this dream place. Dream’s heart fluttered to see him completely cloaked in an oversized, white smiley-face hoodie -- Dream’s merch. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal George’s slender arms. His eyes were hidden by a mock version of his avatar’s white goggles. He stood almost expectantly. As Dream’s eyes wandered the image of familiarity and comfort George provided, he noticed something clutched in George’s hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“My mask?” He questioned, squinting at the straps dangling on either side of his friend’s hand. Dream watched raptly as George lifted the mask and handed it, face down, to Dream. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought it might help,” George offered. Dream gave a soft, strained chuckle. He accepted the mask tenderly, turning it in his hands. His breath pressed roughly from his lips as he stared at the blank, passive smile. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“To hide my ugly face?” Dream baited George, managing a teasing smile.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream swallowed -- his walls were slipping. Ones he set up specifically to encase the feelings that sometimes infected his heart like fleeting candle flickers. But seeing George in his clothes, buried in the material...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No…to give you control.” George responded to Dream’s tease with an understanding smile. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream’s eyes flickered up to his friend’s soft expression. It was just a mask…George was acting like it held some magical properties. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream inevitably accepted it as truth: the mask was key. Silly dream logic or not, Dream set it on his desk, curious to see if he would need it later.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>George crept closer. The dim light of the sunset, cast in bars through the drawn blinds on Dream’s window, highlighted his slight form as he approached. He extended a hand. Dream took it, accepting the assistance in getting to his feet. When they stood toe-to-toe, Dream found himself surprised by how much smaller George really was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You aren’t this short in real life, are you?” Dream murmured, drinking in George’s features regardless of his doubts. Dream was used to admiring George from a distance; here, he could take liberties. This George -- the apparition assembled by Dream’s troubled mind -- wouldn’t mind Dream’s knuckles moving to caress his jaw. Trembling, he basked in George’s closeness. Dream’s eyes lifted to frantically search his face. This paradise was a pretty looking torment chamber, Dream reflected. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re fantasizing about me,” George asked in a low voice -- a question that wasn’t really a question. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It struck a chord with Dream. “Maybe I am,” he muttered in agreement. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This George wouldn't judge him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This George would know he wasn’t joking. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely, this George also felt the desire Dream had buried deep within himself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A tremulous breath fell from Dream’s lips. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess I’m just scared…” He whispered, cupping George’s face, studying the shadow cast by George’s eyelashes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you want your mask?” George offered, beginning to reach around Dream to collect the mask. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream made a split-second decision and lurched, grabbing George’s waist and drawing him into his arms. His breath shook. He felt in every nerve the flutter of his nervous hands on his best friend’s sides.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dram was unable to resist -- he leaned close, his breath hot over George’s skin. “I don’t want the mask, George,” he breathed. His voice hardened. “Fuck the mask.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>you.”</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> Dream forced out roughly. At odds with the fervor in his voice, his nerves were calm; perhaps that had to do with the slide of George’s slender hands over his face. Their noses brushed together; Dream could practically taste George’s lips. Beads of sweat gathered as they both became heated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Clay…” George started softly. Dream tilted his head to the side, angling toward his friend’s lips, looking to close the distance. If George was the forbidden fruit, Dream was an eager Eve. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream had blinked once and found himself returned to the real world. A second later, self-hatred immediately blossomed in his gut. He was exasperated and embarrassed by what his mind had come up with. Nevertheless, his eyes had tentatively searched the room for a glimpse of his friend. Of course, he wasn’t there. Dream’s next breath tasted like distasteful disappointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I thought this had stopped, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dream ruminated ruefully. Liking George was the definition of a losing game and Dream hated losing. The possibility of scaring away his best friend had easily become his biggest fear, so Dream had convinced himself to find satisfaction in pointless, friendly teasing when it came to George. Plus, George was cute when he was flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asking for anything more was the one risk he couldn’t take. Dream put a firm stop to his pining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue light illuminated Dream’s face as he leaned toward his computer. His fingers fiddled with the keys and he hovered hesitantly over the Discord call. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long have I been alone in the call? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wondered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chin drooped to hide in his chest. His head felt heavy, proving he was still dazed with sleep. He swung it to face the small, black alarm clock resting on his desk. A tiny groan left his chest. </span>
</p><p><b><em>1 am,</em></b> <span>the bleak red digits read. </span></p><p>
  <span>He really had fallen asleep. What’s more, George and Sapnap hadn’t bothered to wake him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream chuckled with tasteless disdain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thousands </span>
  </em>
  <span>of fans had caught him napping on stream. Dream wanted to be mad, but he forced down the pride rising in his throat. They had planned to pull an all-nighter stream and take the next day off to recover, so it was unlikely George and Sapnap were up and available for Dream to gripe at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s annoyance was replaced by rivers of guilt, oozing like lava across his skin. In his defense, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>mentioned his exhaustion during the stream. He wondered if one of George or Sapnap or both had agreed to let him sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heh…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the answer without even thinking. Sapnap was a kid, he would have jumped on the opportunity to shout and snap Dream out of a much-needed snooze. George, on the other hand… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream considered the thought cautiously, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. George was </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned his gaze to the monitor and closed the call, leaving hours after the others probably had. He absentmindedly scrolled through his friends list, checking their activity bubbles, and was pleasantly surprised to see </span>
  <b>
    <em>Georgenotfound </em>
  </b>
  <span>active.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s up? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dream wondered. He knew it was about 6 am in Brighton, but still -- they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>performed an all-nighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream shrugged. It didn’t hurt to try. He typed out: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey. I’m really sorry I passed out, what did I miss?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely expected a reply, so he jerked in surprise when George immediately began typing back. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:07: It’s no problem. I know you haven’t slept at all the past couple days. Besides, we ended the stream right after you dropped off. We promised chat another stream, so you can make it up by coming to that one. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After a pause, another text popped through. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The chat missed you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream read it again, his lip quirking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:08</span>
  </em>
  <b>: </b>
  <em>
    <span>Only the chat missed me? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Teasing his friend was as much of a desired pastime off-stream as it was on. In some ways, it was more fun when the fans weren’t around to react. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:09: Are you trying to be annoying?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s smirk grew into a wide, amused grin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:10: Always. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He sent a second text. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should probably sleep before that second stream. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dream hesitated, then began typing again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:11: I hope I can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George replied after a stretch of minutes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:18: Maybe it’s contagious.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s eyebrows raised. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A</span>
  </em>
  <span>t </span>
  <em>
    <span>1:20: You didn’t sleep? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Another long moment passed. Dream began to wonder if George had dropped off, but noticed he had started typing again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:27: A lot on my mind, ig. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s traitorous heart jumped, but he forced himself to read the text with a grain of salt. At any rate, he could feel that George was elsewhere mentally. He wondered if something was up. He asked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like what? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George replied a few minutes later. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need a break, I think. Maybe I should go somewhere. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:31: Come to Florida :b maybe you can help me get some sleep ;)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At 1:33: Maybe </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s jaw dropped. His shock reached a crescendo when George’s face popped onto his screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a prolonged moment, George simply gazed into the camera. The silence was simultaneously awkward and not. George’s eyes finally flicked away, glancing in the direction of his keyboard. Dream watched his friend with bated breath, taking in the minute details of his appearance -- George was so huddled into his chair that the tops of his knees were peeking up at the base of the screen. The blanket tumbling over his shoulders was blue. Dream couldn’t be sure, due to the dim lighting, but he thought there was a sheen of sweat over George’s forehead. He looked stressed -- there was a visible tremor in his fingers when he passed them through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream waited, curious but patient. He would sit with his best friend in silence if he had to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if...” George started, looking up at the screen. “What if I took a break from streaming and I came to see you?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was startled. Did this have to do with George’s visible discomfort? They had talked about visiting before -- most online friends dreamed of it -- but the idea had always seemed far-off. Dream’s heart leaped in his chest, thrumming so hard he could hear it. He wanted to meet George so bad… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed. “Why now?” Something in George’s expression shifted; Dream obediently withdrew his question. He tried again: “When were you thinking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream anticipated an answer in the realm of months from now -- maybe September, as they had discussed fleetingly in the past, which is why he choked on his breath when George replied: “Maybe...two weeks from now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He searched George’s face for a joke but found none. “That isn’t a little soon?” He prodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s eyes slid closed and he looked away from the camera. Dream watched the bob of his adam’s apple a bit too intently; he dragged his eyes back up to George’s face. George said slowly, “I’m worried about you. I want to visit...Maybe I can help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream allowed himself a moment to absorb the turbulent series of events that had filled his evening -- the chaotic excitement of the stream, the exultant delirium of his dream, and now </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He found himself both thrilled and discomfited. His usual wit seemed beyond him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George seemed uncommonly upset -- was it really just his insomnia that had George concerned? Did something happen? Dream ran through any and all scenarios but came up empty-handed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Dream could respond, George covered his face. Anxious laughter bubbled up from his end of the call. George must have misinterpreted his silence -- Dream opened his mouth, ready to reassure his friend, but George spoke first. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nevermind,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>George forced out, and the rustle of his headset being clumsily removed agitated Dream’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, wait --” Dream tried, but George had already ended the call, abandoning Dream to his thoughts and the whir of his monitor. Dream remained still, bewildered and confused, green eyes running over the dull glow of the screen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he roused himself out of his stupor and rose, prepared to lay pointlessly on his bed, awaiting sleep that would never come. The beep of a notification made him pause. </span>
</p><p><b><em>GeorgeNotFound</em></b> <em><span>today at 1:37 am: I care, Dream. Let’s talk later. </span></em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Heart-Shaped Box</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The continuation of a slow-moving unravel for our Floridian man. Lost in the sense of translating what is love and what is otherwise just layers of exhaustion he tries to continue on with his routine as a content creator while figuring out his own internalized feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi!<br/>Ok I was pulling out my hair fighting myself from posting this chapter on Wednesday and not today, I was extremely excited to continue sharing Dream's battle with his insomnia.<br/>I recommend Hot Sugar or Heart- Shaped Box for this chapter for a good listen while you read!<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>GeorgeNotFound </b> <em> today at 1:37 am: I care, Dream… </em></p><p>Dawn the next morning, Dream was still overthinking it. Of course his <em> friend </em>cared about him -- he had barely slept in the last four (now five) days. George was worried with good reason, and here Dream was, lying in bed and repeating the same half of a text message over and over in his demented brain. </p><p>
  <em> I care, Dream. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I care, Dream. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I care. </em>
</p><p>Dream toyed with a philosophical question: How far was caring from liking, crushing on, or loving?</p><p>Dream shoved his face into his pillow, hiding from the bright sunlight peering through his window. He <em> had </em>to be delirious. Since when did he read so much into George’s messages? Maybe George’s atypical behavior had driven him to these lengths, or the lack of sleep. Or both. </p><p>Dream couldn’t stop thinking about it. <em> Is he serious about visiting? Will his voice sound different in person? Will he be as short as he was in my dream? </em></p><p><em> I care, Dream. </em> His stomach twisted at the very thought of what those words would sound like leaving George’s mouth. <em> Soft, </em>Dream indulgently imagined. Tender, affectionate. Dream’s thoughts wandered unchecked, manifesting an image of George’s figure -- fragile and buried beneath his blanket. The particular shade of his skin, the curve of his throat, the tense line of his jaw.</p><p>Dream swallowed hard, violently ripping himself from his thoughts. <em> Snap out of it.  </em></p><p>“I <em> need </em> to sleep,” he urgently whispered to himself. The more often his mind drifted, the more often he crept into dangerous territory. He was risking more than he was willing to gamble, especially considering he didn’t even <em> want </em> to gamble it. </p><p>Dream squeezed his eyes shut. He was desperate to submit to his exhaustion, but the insomnia fought valiantly against his weariness. If he could just…force himself…just…for a bit…</p><p>
  <em> Brrrrr… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> BRRRRrrrr.. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> BRRRRRRRRRRRR… </em>
</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Dream jolted up and snatched his phone off the bedside table. His eye twitched as he registered Sapnap’s contact. Irritably, he accepted the call. </p><p>“Did you have a nice nap?” Sapnap started, a grin in his voice. </p><p>Dream replied with a gravelly growl. “I <em> still </em> can’t sleep, Sapnap.” He groaned, his voice rough from disuse. “I have no idea why, but I can only sleep when it’s inconvenient. Like on stream, in front of <em> thousands </em>of people.” </p><p>Sapnap made a noise deep in his chest. “I had to wake George up, too, he said he only got about an hour. Are you guys staying up sexting or something?” He jested, earning an exasperated groan. </p><p>Dream forced the conversation down a more appropriate route. “Was he acting strange?” He pressed instead. </p><p>“Who, George?” </p><p>“Who else?” </p><p>“Don’t get snappy. It’s not my fault someone stayed up past his bedtime.” Sapnap was just joking, but Dream could feel his hesitance. “He was…weirdly distant. He kept asking about you,” Sapnap added off-handedly as if the detail wasn’t significant. </p><p>“What kind of stuff was he asking about?” Dream finally asked, nervously twisting the sheets between his fingers. In his peripheral vision, he could see his knuckles turn stark white.</p><p>Sapnap expressed his discomfort at being the middle man with a loud, unabashed groan. “I dunno, dude? Weird stuff, I guess. If you were up? If you had said anything about last night?” Dream could practically see Sapnap pinching hard at the bridge of his nose. “I had no clue, and that’s what I told him.” </p><p>Dream grimaced. “Hey, I’m going to hang up. I’ll...try calling him.” He didn’t wait for a response before dropping the call. Hopefully, Sapnap wouldn’t be <em> too </em>annoyed by that.</p><p>Dream popped a pair of bluetooth headphones into his ears before navigating to George’s DM’s. The message that made his weary heart flutter with affection sat hauntingly on his screen (I care, Dream). Dream’s thumb hesitated over the call button before he caught himself, flushing with embarrassment. He pressed it. </p><p>Dream dragged a hand through his blond curls impatiently as he waited. The damn thing near rang forever. Dream was about ready to quit and end it when the <em> ting </em>sounded, indicating George had picked up. </p><p>“Dream?” George asked, sounding distant from his microphone. </p><p>Relieved, Dream flopped onto his back, tossing the phone to rest beside him. He closed his eyes, unable to subdue a smile at George’s voice. “Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?” </p><p>There was a soundless pause in reply, but the clatter of George slipping on his headset soon filled Dream’s ear. He winced a bit but sat up in anticipation, listening intently. </p><p>“Ah, yeah. I just got out of the shower, but it’s fine.”</p><p>Dream blushed. <em> The shower? </em>He felt a bit...flattered that George had bothered to pick up. Dream cringed at how his heartbeat took off -- he was acting like a teenage girl. Reflexively, he slipped into teasing, “Really? Are you wearing anything?” He was satisfied his sly tongue had not abandoned him as sleep had. </p><p>George scoffed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” </p><p>Dream’s grin grew with the excitement of possibly making his friend squirm. “What if I <em> did </em>want to know?” His voice deepened, turning gravelly. “What if I told you I wanted to see you, still dripping wet from the shower?” A flustered exclamation came from across the set and Dream smirked victoriously. He felt a thrill, lying in bed and teasing George like this.</p><p>“Is <em> this </em> why you called,” George demanded tetchily, attempting to sound threatening. Dream’s chest warmed -- it was cute. </p><p>Dream fully sat up and crossed his legs beneath him. He nipped at his lip thoughtfully, suppressing a charmed grin. “No,” he responded honestly, his lashes tickling his cheek as he dipped his head slightly. His fingers caught on his chin, tracing his stubble. </p><p>“Then why did you?” George pressed, seeking a real answer. </p><p>Dream gave a breathy laugh, caught between affection and amusement. He inquired playfully, “Sapnap called, saying you were asking about me. Is that right?” His voice turned more serious as he continued. “So? What did you want to say?”</p><p>Dream’s query was met with hesitance. </p><p><em> Damn him, so fucking calculated, </em> Dream groused. Dream wanted to catch George off-guard, just <em> once </em>. It was number one on his bucket list. He wanted a raw reaction from him. Dream’s face split with a grin at the thought.</p><p>“Don’t worry about last night. Honestly, I didn’t get much sleep,” George finally dismissed. Dream felt a twinge of disappointment before he forced his thoughts down a more pleasant path. Of course, that path came right back around to George -- his adorable accent, his wide smile, the roll of his eyes when Dream said something particularly absurd. </p><p>Dream pictured what he must look like now -- leaning near-naked against the cold, marble counter in his bathroom. In his mind’s eye, he saw the contrast of George’s damp hair against his neck. He imagined the doleful glint in his George’s eyes as he thoughtfully sought the clearest route through their conversation. </p><p>Dream blinked back to reality. “Did you sleep at all?” He asked, concerned. He knew all too well the results of too little rest. He was sourly reminded he hadn’t slept in days -- it was not an experience he would wish on George. </p><p>“A little…what about you?” George quickly chimed, sounding satisfied by the subject change. </p><p>“About an hour, I guess...” Dream responded distantly, rubbing his eyes. </p><p>“An hour?” George confirmed after a beat. </p><p>Dream’s brow wrinkled with confusion. “...Yes?”</p><p>“And you just now got up…?”</p><p>“<em> Yes </em> … <em> ?” </em></p><p>“Dream. What were you doing from one to eight?” George inquired, amusement dripping on his words. </p><p>While Dream knew George was joking around, his breath still fled his chest. <em> Thinking about you, </em>he thought. </p><p>He was too slow to craft a snarky riposte. His silence was greeted by George’s warm, amused laughter. Dream thought he detected an odd, delicate quiver at the end of George’s giggle, but he wasn’t sure.  </p><p>“Do you really want to visit in two weeks?” He blurted. As anticipated, his question was met with dead silence. Dream wallowed nervously in the silence, clutching at the back of his neck with twitching fingers.</p><p>“I --” George’s voice creaked, and Dream’s stomach clenched again. “I meant what I said,” George forced out. </p><p>Dream’s face heated. His gaze was drawn to his phone, his eyes seeking George’s faceless icon for the lie. He was on fire at the thought of George being in his home. For a fleeting moment, Dream eloped into a fantasy of throwing open his front door to find George on the other side. His stomach filled with butterflies -- he could barely imagine George <em> actually </em>standing in front of him.</p><p>“Great, good. Um -- okay.” Dream stuttered out. He was surprised at the sound of his own voice, soft with a terrifying amount of affection. Afraid to scare George off, he tentatively asked, “Later we can talk more about it, right?” </p><p>Dream’s question was followed by a wide yawn. Frustration replaced Dream’s hesitant excitement. Maybe if he wasn’t bordering on sleepless, he’d be able to talk to George like a normal person. </p><p>“Okay,” George replied quietly, matching Dream’s tone. “I should get ready for my stream. See you there?” </p><p>Dream smiled. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”</p><p>As George ended the call, Dream dropped to sprawl over his bed. He grabbed a pillow and muffled a groan into it -- why was he suddenly acting like this? He was to the point of being giddy even when George just spoke to him. </p><p> </p><p>Without George distracting him, the tired ache behind his eyes became noticeable. Dream draped his arm over his face, blocking aggravating light. When his phone buzzed with George’s particular ringtone, surprise overtook his annoyance -- George was supposed to be getting ready to stream. </p><p>Dream peeked through his fingers at his phone. It was a Snapchat notification, he realized. As he swiped past his lock screen and into the app, his mind drifted, imagining what the image would be. Embarrassingly enough, he jumped to remind himself George had <em> just </em>got out of the shower. </p><p>Dream drew his lower lip into his mouth, stretching his imagination from sensical reality to the picture of George dressed in nothing but sweat, weary at Dream’s mercy, brown hair in tangles and doe eyes seeking him desperately. </p><p>Dream felt a flash of guilt, thinking about George like this, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Dream wondered if George had freckles. In the pixelation of his webcam, Dream had never been able to tell.  </p><p> </p><p>Caught up in his own thoughts, Dream had forgotten to open the Snapchat. Feeling ridiculous, he tapped the little notification. His jaw slid open. Well. He hadn’t expected <em> this. </em>The selfie made it very clear George had just got out the shower. He was clad only in a towel and wearing a small, private smile. Dream’s eyes raked over George’s unmarked skin; he didn’t appear to have any freckles. Maybe if he came to Florida, he’d collect a few. Dream would spend time kissing each one, dragging his lips over George’s cheek and down the soft angle of his jaw. The thought stirred his stomach and Dream hushed his mind for a moment so he could finish drinking in the picture. He focused on George’s eyes, coffee-colored and endearing. Dream was enchanted, thinking of seeing those eyes in person. </p><p>While the looming event of George visiting filled Dream with excitement, that happy buzz was accompanied by a hint of dread. <em> Again with the thoughts about him visiting. </em>Dream thought, dread now accompanied with exasperation. It was just another thing bound to keep him up way too long. Unwilling to revert into moodiness, Dream allowed his gaze to drift back to George’s selfie. George’s eyelashes were long, dark, and lush -- the type that would certainly tickle Dream’s face if he leaned a certain way. </p><p>Feeling daring, Dream took a screenshot. <em> Let’s see how guarded you are now. </em>Immediately, George’s little bitmoji popped up in their chat, indicating that he was typing. </p><p>George sent: <em> Seriously?  </em></p><p>With a devilish grin, Dream returned: <em> Consider it blackmail. </em></p><p>He could almost literally feel the annoyance that was likely boiling inside of his friend now. </p><p>
  <em> I’m never sending you a picture like that again. </em>
</p><p>A laugh escaped Dream at the thought of the flush that had likely bit at George’s ivory complexion upon realizing Dream had permanently made the image his own. <em> Maybe I’ll let you delete it when you get here, </em>he sent back.</p><p>Dream’s victorious heart leapt at the possibility of it, and a smirk spread across his face almost immediately after he had tamed his first smile. The thought of holding the phone over George’s head while George desperately bargained with him to delete the picture prompted him into another giggle. Poor Georgie was too fun to tease. </p><p>Dream shook the small revelation, compartmentalizing it for later. He supposed this gift of an image deserved a proper response. So, without really a second thought, he casually took a picture of himself, featuring an angle that faced away from his face, concentrated on his torso and the waistband of his sweats. He added text: <em> Fair is fair.  </em></p><p>George didn’t open it immediately. Dream truly didn’t mind -- the longer his friend waited, the more raw his reaction. </p><p>Dismissing the unopened image, Dream finally hopped up from his bed to get ready to stream. He found a clean shirt, brushed his teeth, and quickly fed his cat, Patches, before sliding into his chair. Patches wound around his feet as Dream put on his headset and adjusted his mic. The adrenaline of his short interaction with George died out quickly and he caught himself yawning. <em> I won’t fall asleep, not again, </em>Dream firmly instructed himself.</p><p>In the time Dream had wasted ogling George’s selfie, George had started up his stream. Currently, he was conversing with his chat. Meanwhile, Dream logged onto Minecraft. </p><p>“Finally, he’s here.” George greeted Dream in a chipper tone, intertwined with teasing. Dream played along, replying with a sleepy grunt. He earned an exuberant bout of laughter. “Maybe the grumpy green boy will be able to stay awake,” George prodded Dream. Dream gave that what it deserved: a groan.</p><p>“Today, we’re doing something a little different,” George introduced, looking animated. Unseen, Dream smiled in response. They had been in kahoots for a while now, planning this particular idea. “We are playing ‘Minecraft but…’ on steam! Our challenge is to beat Minecraft without ever having the cover of day and hostile mobs have been multiplied and spawn locations randomized. Will we be able to dodge the additional hostile mobs and beat the game?” George said, a slightly goofy grin brightening his face. “We wanted to start out relatively simple for this live-streamed version of the challenge.” </p><p>Dream snorted at George’s remark. “<em> Simple.” </em>He parroted, rolling his eyes. At the same time, Dream opened George’s stream on his second monitor, allowing him to see George’s broad smile. </p><p>George gave Dream’s comment a more enthusiastic laugh than it deserved, and Dream melted. For how little sleep he had supposedly got, George seemed especially cheerful. It was easy to admire the way the light complimented George’s complexion and worked with his gleeful expression to somehow give him an even more brilliant glow. Dream ripped his gaze back to his monitor, fingers floating to pose over his keyboard. Smirking, he sprinted forward in-game, ahead of George, inspiring his friend to cut his chatter long enough to chase after him. </p><p><em> “ </em> Alright! We’re off! <em> ” </em>George expressed to his stream. </p><p>Dream was busily tapping various keys, collecting tools and falling into the rhythm of the game, when he noticed something odd in his peripheral vision. George had stopped moving and was looking into his lap, presumably at his phone. </p><p>“<em> Oh </em>?” George said smugly. He lifted his hand; in it, he clutched his phone. The screen was lit, revealing he had received a snap from none other than Dream himself. “Dream sent a picture over Snapchat! Of what, I wonder…?” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun!Dun!DUN!!!!!<br/>George got that snap a little late, I hate it when that happens.<br/>Sorry to leave you all on a cliffhanger, but chapter 3 easily makes it worth it.;)<br/>Look forward to that dropping likely next Friday!<br/>Thanks for reading!<br/>(THANK YOU TO CAPTAINOFRED again for being my beta reader!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Waterfalls Coming Out of Your Mouth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feeding time, A bit of a glanceback at what made green boy so sleepless. Enjoy :)<br/>Also I'm so sorry for being late :C busy weekend.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “Oh?” George said smugly. He lifted his hand; in it, he clutched his phone. The screen was lit, revealing he had received a snap from none other than Dream himself. “Dream sent a picture over Snapchat! Of what, I wonder…?”  </em>
</p><p>Dream felt his throat dry as George brandished his phone to the viewers. He watched with abashment and horror as George let his finger hover over the unopened image. <em> Don’t! </em>The words were on the tip of Dream’s tongue, but George lowered the phone, turning it away from the camera so only he could see the lit up screen. Dream released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. </p><p>“Did you finally reveal your face to me?” George teased, his eyes abandoning the device only for a moment to give Dream a personal smile. Dream fought a wary laugh at George’s lighthearted expression. He had sent things before that he would regret George sharing with his stream, but nothing this…suggestive. </p><p>“Y-you wish.” He tentatively forced out, voice quivering with nerves. Anxious bile rose in his throat. </p><p>George’s finger tapped his screen; presumably, he opened the image. Dream’s heart pounded as he tried to read George’s face, frantically studying his expression. </p><p><em> I’m exhausted, I’m not myself... </em>Dream attempted to reason, hoping George would excuse Dream’s presumptive snap the same way. </p><p>Dream recalled words his mother had said to him when he was young: <em> Stay in the low tide, where it’s safe. </em>It was a rule anyone who grew up an hour or two from the ocean learned at a young age. Waiting anxiously for George’s response, Dream wished he would have remembered his mother’s warning. </p><p>“Is...is this you?” </p><p>George’s voice ripped him from Dream from his thoughts. Dream’s dizzy gaze fluttered to look at him. He received a heavy rush of adrenaline for his troubles, as he swore George’s cheeks were tinged crimson. His jaw went slack as he gawked at the image -- Dream wondered if his focus was drifting down the v-line of Dream’s abdomen. Finally, George’s gaze returned to his camera. His eyes were like tiny embers, burning across the cruel ocean parting them and into Dream’s soul. </p><p>George knew well Dream was watching his every reaction. Dream’s fingers drummed anxiously on his desk. Words, cocky and teasing, tumbled from his dry mouth: “What do you think? Hot, right?” Dream immediately winced, hearing the breathlessness in his tone. </p><p>George’s expression had turned into blank slate, in juxtaposition to his chat, which buzzed with comment after comment, demanding to know what had been sent. The fans had heard the shake in Dream’s voice and seen the blatant shock on George’s face.  </p><p>Part of Dream was kicking himself -- this tense situation was his fault. The other part of Dream danced, knowing only he and George knew what the image entailed. He was just for George. </p><p>Dream lurched when his in-game avatar nearly walked off a cliff, earning a nervous laugh from both himself and George. A period of awkward silence stretched before George half-teased, half-apologized, “Sorry, chat. Dream apparently isn’t himself lately. If only he’d stop staying up so late on those video games.” </p><p>Part of Dream mourned the passing of the tense moment. He was tempted to bring up the image again, but he settled on huffing an irritated laugh. George pressed on. “Actually, this is becoming a bit of a repeat thing, isn’t it, Dream?” George questioned, referring to Dream’s insomnia. His avatar sprinted across the grass, hiding in a cave to evade a gathering of zombies.</p><p>“Four,” Dream agreed, rubbing his face tiredly. He accepted an iron pickaxe from George and moved to join him with an easy tap or two on his keyboard. George’s character turned to look at him, and Dream too stopped. He glanced to the second monitor to observe George’s face, curious about his friend’s sudden silence. </p><p>“Wait…are you serious?” George inquired. “Four <em> days?” </em> Dream fought back a pleased smile. <em> He’s worried.  </em></p><p>Dream nodded, mostly for his own benefit. “Yeah, it’s been weird.” His fingers drew nervously over his chin for a moment in thought before he moved his avatar to deftly block off advancing monsters. “Maybe I need a new mattress -- this one <em> is </em>getting older,” He joked, winning a sigh from George. </p><p>“Are you <em> sure </em>it’s just discomfort?” George asked, his eyes flicking to his facecam quickly, as if warning Dream to be honest. </p><p>Of course, Dream obeyed, knowing his friend would be able to tell if he was holding back. “I’m…not sure. I should probably start thinking about what caused it,” He said slowly. Truthfully, Dream knew exactly what had sent him into this sleepless spiral. His memory sharply drifted back to that night. </p><p>---</p><p><em> “I bet you’d </em> love <em> to be under me, George.”  </em></p><p>
  <b> <em>George is typing...</em> </b>
</p><p>The message came through. <b> <em>Why do you always do that? </em> </b></p><p>
  <em> Dream felt his amusement perk up -- there was nothing he loved more than an opportunity to tease George. They had just said their goodbyes to the stream and their friends, leaving just Dream and George to linger in the Discord call. Dropping that smart-ass comment, he had immediately won a shrill complaint from his friend. George had currently muted himself, forcing Dream to follow suit, giving him a moment to cool off.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With an idle smile playing across his face, Dream leaned back into his gaming chair. When was the last time he and George had been alone in a call like this, basking in the adrenaline crash that followed a stream? They spoke every day, but it was admittedly nice to spend time together after performing for their audience. He enjoyed these quiet moments when it was late and they were too tired to bother playing, yet too keyed up to go to bed.  </em>
</p><p><em> Dream lifted his hands to type but was blocked by Patches leaping onto his lap. He cooed a hello, gently passing his hand over her tauny head. Her tail curled around his wrist as he typed. </em> <b> <em>Do what? </em> </b> <em> Dream finally asked, playing innocent.  </em></p><p><b> <em>Dream. </em> </b> <em> Was George’s deadpan reply.</em></p><p>
  <em> At George’s exasperation, clear even through text, Dream’s lips split in a victorious grin and his chest warmed. Abruptly, he missed the sound of his friend’s voice.</em>
</p><p><em> He typed, </em> <b> <em>Do you mind if I jump on my phone and we can talk some more? Or do you need to sleep?</em> </b></p><p>
  <em> Dream’s fingers jittered excitedly as he waited, eyes glued to the words </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>George is typing…</em> </b>
</p><p><em> Finally, George’s response came through: </em> <b> <em>No, I can stay up a bit longer. Take your time.</em> </b></p><p>
  <em> A smile suffused across Dream’s face. Enlivened, he scooped Patches into his arms and relocated to his bed. He settled her into the lazily twisted comforter of his bed before retrieving his wireless earbuds. He popped them into his ears as he flopped onto the mattress.  </em>
</p><p><em> As he opened Discord, blue light spilled over his features. He readily joined the </em> <b> <em>Sex Havers and Friends </em> </b> <em> voice chat, where he saw George’s icon patiently awaiting him.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “That didn’t take long.” George greeted absentmindedly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, I just had to get in bed.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hm, me too.” After a pause, George quizzed, “Do you have a king size or a twin?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream’s heart quivered. He felt a flash of embarrassment that such pointless small talk could empower and relight his crush. His rebuttal was teasing, hiding the flutter in his chest. “I’ve never shown you my bed?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After a long pause, George sighed thoughtfully. “I don’t know…maybe? I suppose there’s quite a bit of your life I’ve never seen.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream’s brow furrowed sharply as pinpricks of guilt stung his skin. George was his best friend, yet what had he really seen of Dream? George knew Dream’s voice like the back of his hand and Dream chatted candidly with him about his day-to-day existence, but that paled beside the glaring fact George had never seen his face. Dream wondered if George considered their friendship one-sided -- his heartstrings tugged guiltily at the thought. “I guess you’re right,” Dream returned quietly, hating the slight waver in his voice. He cleared his throat before answering George’s original question. “It’s a king.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “All by yourself?” George replied with surprise.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream’s chest wrenched as he glanced to his right, seeing the open space at his side occupied only by Patches. Sudden loneliness put a damper on his mood. “Ha, yeah. It wasn’t as bad when I had a girlfriend. I still only sleep on one side.” He passed a hand over his face a second later, regretting the words as they left his mouth. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining George filling that space, curled endearingly into the blankets, maybe in that damned black pullover… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is it lonely?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream hated when George dug at his thoughts, picking them out as if Dream had vocalized them. In the quiet of his bedroom, with only George keeping him company, he couldn’t help but answer honestly. “Very.” Dream muttered. He turned his head into his pillow, tangled hair falling to cover his blush. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream imagined George lying on his side, face scrunched as he struggled to respond to Dream’s candor. Dream hurried to fill the silence with reassurance. “But it’s okay. I sleep like a baby anyway.” He said, injecting a chipper edge into his voice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hmpf, yeah, I bet.” George said, taking the bait. Dream let out a soft chuckle, as if fearful his boisterous nature would ruin the softened peace they had allowed around themselves.  </em>
</p><p><em> “George…” Dream shifted nervously. His mind was like a beehive, buzzing with thoughts. Hesitance kept him from asking what was on his mind. </em> This is my worst idea yet, <em> he thought grudgingly. </em></p><p>
  <em> “...Dream?” George’s response was wary.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “George, what do I look like?” Dream asked. His voice was straightforward and strong, despite the anxious tremor in his fingers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What do you...look like?” George sounded baffled. His voice tweaked a pitch upwards.  </em>
</p><p><em> Dream swallowed his sheepishness and rephrased, “What do I look like in your head? You just said it yourself, I haven’t shown you much. But you must have </em> something <em> in mind. What do I look like?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Oh -- um.” George’s voice was muffled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dread rose in Dream’s chest -- he hoped he hadn’t pushed too far. “Nevermind, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable --” </em>
</p><p><em>“Dream, it’s fine.” George steadied Dream with his relaxed tone. “Just…” George audibly swallowed. </em>“Please, <em>don’t laugh.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Dream’s throat was too dry for him to fish out an entire sentence. He settled on the wisp of a phase: “Okay…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The tension between them could have easily been cut with a knife. Dream liked to present a persona of confidence in his videos and streams, as if he was as indestructible in real life as he was in Minecraft. Dream felt far from that persona now, impatiently waiting for George’s answer. The longer George took to collect his thoughts, the more Dream felt like curling up into a ball and disappearing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I imagine you’re…tall. 6’2”, perhaps?” George began with a joke. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream retorted with a groan, praying his friend would get serious. “George, c’mon.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sorry, sorry. Well, based on what I know…” George started slowly. He released a wavering breath before going on. “Well, I know about your personality. You’re...brash. You’re unapologetic. What you say goes.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Those weren’t unfamiliar descriptors -- Dream received them often from fans who only knew his internet personality. Dream’s hopes began to fall before George continued, his voice turning warm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> George went on, “But you are also so, so very compassionate. You go to lengths most people won’t for their friends, especially for me and Sap…” George sounded fond with nostalgia. “And you pour your heart into everything you do. You’re so charismatic -- it just oozes out of you and makes you incredibly interesting to talk to --” George hesitated, suddenly considerate of what he was saying.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He continued, more subdued but no less earnest. “You are very literally the hardest working individual I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You’ve earned it all, almost single-handedly, and you balance so much on a plate that is so full.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream’s jaw had fallen open. His face was pink; his heart was pounding. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, but Dream managed to claw his next words from his throat. “How do I look, though?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I…” George hesitated.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The hand wrapped around Dream’s heart tightened its grip. He came to his senses. “George, you don’t have to --”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Clay. It’s alright.” George assured him. Dream melted as George weaponized his real name. “I know you’re tall, but...I imagine I hardly come to your shoulder.” George kindly reworded his earlier joke. He said his next words on the edge of a laugh. “Sometimes, I imagine how ridiculous I’d look in your clothes.”  </em>
</p><p><em> Dream let out a laugh too, short and satisfied. </em> Or maybe you’d look adorable, <em> he was tempted to say, but he bit his tongue.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “I think you’re athletic.” George mused. “Your skin is darker than mine -- all that Florida sun, you know. I bet you have a lot of freckles, especially on your face and shoulders…” A smile had crept into George’s voice. “I know your eyes are green, and there’s some amber, too. But I imagine you have a very intense gaze.” George paused before admitting, “You might like my eyes, Dream, but yours are incredible.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream smiled to himself, feeling suddenly warm. George wasn’t wrong… but the way he said it, as if awaking from an incredible dream. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Your hair…” George’s voice came out soft, hardly audible. Dream hung onto every word. “You’re some kind of blond, aren’t you? Maybe it’s lighter in the summer and darker in the colder months -- if Florida has those. Maybe you’re golden throughout the entire year.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a brief pause before George went on. “I can imagine all I want, but...I’m sure what I picture has no way of living up to the real thing.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream squeezed his eyes shut. He was imagining the “real thing” as well; the real thing being George. George finally in his arms, his dark hair tickling Dream’s chin.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream’s lungs emptied of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He raised his hands and found his palms to be shaking. He wanted to hold George’s hand, he wanted to kiss his forehead, he wanted to inspire that million dollar smile onto his face. A pent-up groan filled Dream’s chest; he bit on his tongue to keep it from escaping.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He lurched upright, frantically glancing at the phone. Had he missed something George said as he had drifted? Why was George filling up every corner of his corroded mind, preventing him from thinking of anything else? How long had he felt like this?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream’s anxiety roared as he realized George had been waiting in silence while Dream quietly freaked out. His hand went to his hair, latching on and tugging in an effort to collect himself. This was worse than the last time I had crushed on George, he realized bitterly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry,” Dream blurted. “I just remembered I have to -- um, get to sleep.” Dream lied through his teeth, scrambling to get out of bed. Patches meowed as he agitated the mattress.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh? Ok…” Dream hung up before George could finish. He’d worry about feeling bad later. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ---- </em>
</p><p>Dream had on-and-off harbored a crush on George for a few years, but lately, it was the only thing Dream could think about. George doing the simplest thing could set fire to Dream's core, demolishing his carefully constructed walls and tormenting his mind. Dream could fight it, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one. He could only speculate on how long it would be before George completely consumed his days.</p><p>“Dream?” George’s voice swam back into Dream’s awareness. <em> “Dream!” </em>George tried again, jerking Dream from his thoughts. </p><p>“H-huh?” Dream said, startled out of a daze. He immediately flushed with horror. “I did it again, didn’t I. Drifted off.” </p><p>George took a second to reply; he was likely attending to his stream. “At least you came back, right?”</p><p>“It started after that call,” Dream admitted, sharply returning to the question George had asked a few minutes ago regarding his insomnia. sharply redirecting the subject. “When you -- when you talked about what you think I look like.”</p><p>“You’re bringing that back up…? Why? Did something happen?” George asked, though he seemed distracted, busy farming from the blaze spawner. </p><p>“Yeah,” Dream stated in an ambiguous tone, “something did.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Again! sorry for being late. But! I hope this give you all an idea of why greenie is melting for his gogy.<br/>Look forward to chapter 4 bc its going to be some true food for those that are still reading.<br/>&lt;3 thanks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Tangerine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, I'm exhausted, but I needed you people to have the food I want to offer. </p><p>UHHHH There was no beta read for this chapter so if it is extra shit then I am super sorry and maybe I'll just repost the entire thing when she has time to beta it for me.<br/>I edited it myself so I'm sure its not to the caliber she brings it to.<br/>I hope it is still enjoyable tho!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Dream stated in an ambiguous tone,  “something did.”  </em>
</p><p>The proceeding 30 minutes were spent on George’s insistent pestering; but, Dream belligerently refused to bend regardless of his swelling tender spot for his best friend. <em> I can never let this happen. </em>Dream pointedly prompted, every time the lava of his affection choked him up. </p><p>Outside of that, the rest of the stream followed routine teases, pesters, and boyish humor. All up until they nearly died- but, successfully evaded death, winning the game. Dream’s mind threatened to wander as the two’s avatars watched side by side as the dragon burst into puffs of nothingness. </p><p>The two remained, allowing George to catch up on donations quickly. Eventually, Dream was jerked from his thought as George chirruped his goodbyes, gaining, in turn, a series of:</p><p>“Bye Gogy!’s” and “Sleep well, Dream’s!” Dream wanted to laugh at the unintended cruelty of the chosen farewells. Yet, relief at the work’s end filled him, and he immediately melted into his chair, a puddle of exhaustion. Concerningly, his mind remained violently buzzing. </p><p> Dream now admitted the truth: He was <em> miserable. </em>Setting his forearm over his heavy lids he yielded, leaving his thoughts to meander away and give him a moment’s peace. </p><p><em> “Dream.” </em>George barked aggressively, a harsh reminder Dream was again leaving him out to dry. He’d feel upset or even guilty if it wasn't for the call being laced with unease. In reluctant response for the disturbance, Dream allowed noise to rumble his chest-- a gravelly groan. </p><p>“Yeah?” He muttered, forcing himself into an upward position. Sincerely, he wondered what had George so perturbed. Correcting his thoughts, Dream instead pondered what part of his display set him on edge like this.  </p><p>Dream leaned into his armrest, posed as if bracing for impact. He was finding himself accustomed to the silence that settled between them, as George sought his clearest route. His nerves stilled only a bit at George’s tone. </p><p>“What the<em> hell </em>was that?” George sounded… weary, exhausted even.</p><p> Dream again felt irony well in his thoughts, continuing to bite back a laugh of resentment. He supposed exhaustion was no longer an object of concern when put against his own. </p><p>Successfully, George redirected Dream back to the present, stinging him with a quiet “I don’t even know what to say, Dream, I mean…” </p><p>Dream’s heart crumbled. Perhaps George’s wariness for him meant more than he cared to admit. Hearing him upset and confused hurt Dream more than he could express, and he immediately wanted to mend the wounds he imposed upon the male. Dream felt his voice grow especially hoarse, “George, just tell me…” he beseeched of him, a low whine rising with his anxiety.  </p><p>“T-That picture, Dream,” George’s insufferable faltering tone made Dream’s hair stand,” I mean… what the <em> Hell.” </em>Dream didn’t know how to feel about the way George rotated through the same phrases, as if rendered speechless, yet grasping at straws.</p><p>Dream fought rising bile and a heavy throb in his ears. His walls wavered and prepared to abandon him at the slightest quiver. Yet, George wasn’t finished, “You make jokes but that…. I don’t know how to interpret it.” The tremoring tone at the end of George’s words made Dream’s piteous heart sputter for him-- disregarding the scolding its master was actively grieving. In a small war of mind and heart, his powerful emotion easily overrode sense, and he straightened, readily. </p><p>“Turn on your face cam.” Dream heard himself suddenly demand. In the dead silence that followed, unfamiliarity struck his cord, and he worried if he had gone to far. Yet, he was desperate to see if he was right. Eventually, He could hear nervous shifting across his headset and his eyes expectantly glued themselves to his second monitor, his fingers whitening as they move to grip his desk. </p><p>Unprepared by the sudden change, Dream felt himself retreat backward. Bewildered by the obedience he had received, he drank in what he was witnessing in immediate fervor. There George was, nervously set in his usual spot in his gaming chair. But, the sight of the male was much less… uniform. </p><p>Dream’s dry mouth drew open as he stared in wonder at the image. George sat, hunched silently over his desk, his hues anywhere but the webcam. Dream followed the image down, starting from the tangles of his abnormally tousled hair. His eyes trekked to the grooves made by sharply furrowed brows, venturing down to a haphazard red hoodie, with curiously sharp porcelain collarbones peeking from the seam of the neck.  Dream deliberately hesitated, not knowing he could handle much more of it. In complete disregard he flicked his gaze up just enough to witness George’s face, back over the brows in a sharp rank and down to the doe brown orbs, shaded by dark lashes. A prudent smile passed over Dream’s mouth but went unnoticed as Dream continued his task at hand. He terminated his examination as he saw all he needed. He felt a disgusting sweetness fill his maw, and his stomach flipped in exuberance. </p><p>
  <em> He had been right. </em>
</p><p>“I-” George suffered a croak in his tone. Dream knew he was cornered, caught in the rosy glow upon his perfect complexion. </p><p>“<em> What.”  </em>Dream didn’t mean for it to be demanding; but, he <em>needed </em>George to say it, to feed his ache. Just for now, just to tide him over. At least, that's what he reasoned. </p><p>“I can’t believe you sent that…” George choked out his Adam's apple bobbing, It was shamelessly given special notice, “It was… a lot.” George admitted. Readily, Dream attempted to translate his crypticness. </p><p>“A lot…?” Dream parroted breathlessly, feeling way too warm to stay in his chair, but he grasped at the armrest to keep himself rooted. </p><p>Dream greeted George’s deep eyes as they returned back to the screen, daring him to push. The dream was immersed in how he couldn’t translate the deadpan stare, yet the majority of his attention was still dedicated to the remnants of crimson he was witnessing. He wished to bring it back but doubted this was an appropriate time. </p><p>“Y-yes,” George muttered, muffled under his sleeved hand against his pink lips. “I… guess if I’m honest it was…” Dream caught himself leaning in heavily to hear George, listened to any noise he could claim. “Not the worst...” The words stumbled clumsily on the embarrassment of George’s breath, and Dream basked in it.</p><p>“Do I look, Athletic? Like how you said I did.” Dream pressed, knowing well he was fishing for it out of George now. </p><p>“<em> Dream,” </em>George whined, earning a grin from Dream. Sensing that he wouldn’t relent, George gave, muttering out nervous “yes....”</p><p>At a high, Dream’s thoughts bore themselves openly, “I can’t wait for you to see me in person.” he admitted, and earned a hopeful glimmer of gleefulness from George. </p><p>“When we meet.” George started, suddenly interesting in his sleeves, “Do you think it will be everything we hoped?” George asked, seemingly set on his own image of what he wished for their first interaction.</p><p><em> No, </em> Dream thought, his heart drenched in angst <em> because you won’t run into my arms and let me kiss you senseless.  </em></p><p>“Hopefully.” He stated, his tone not giving away the upset that filled him. </p><p>Dream’s shortened attention turned sharply to George’s sweatered hands coming up again to sit in front of his face, allowing him watching from beneath the curtain of his hair as George’s tender fingers tangled in each other, nervously fiddling. “Dream…” Dream knew well, the conversation was changing from the returned anxiousness of his tone. </p><p>“Hmm?” Dream said, struggling to keep himself together, especially after that. He was absolutely falling apart, but it was okay. It was for George… <em> his </em>George. </p><p> “J-just not during a stream, okay?”</p><p>The heat built in Dream’s chest, and somehow his mind became even more enthralled with George’s actions. “<em> Just not during a stream?” </em>He repeated in challenge, his vicious heart thrumming. “Just not what?” Dream knew he was in control, he was where he was comfortable, he knew he could egg a response out of his friend, and he’d be damned if he didn’t. </p><p>“The pictures… of you… I don't want to have anything happen.” Dream’s brows shot up in suspicion, but his lips parted twitching a bit. </p><p>“Then when?” </p><p>George’s face contorted thoughtfully, navigating the conversation again-- likely battling his rash friend best he could. </p><p>“Make sure I’m alone. I’m not going to have you torment me in front of friends, or fans.” </p><p>Dream’s lips split, and his hand flew to his mouth to withhold giddy giggles that rose. What was he? A fucking anime school girl? He recovered immediately, sucking in a new breath instead. </p><p>“And tone it back, I’m fine with seeing you but that was…” </p><p>Dream’s grin remained as he fought to unlock his jaw, uttering out. “Too sexy?” </p><p>“You should try taking a nap.” George immediately said, turning off his cam, Dream broke into his brilliant laughter, wheezing as he leaned forward, victorious in embarrassing his poor friend. </p><p>“Maybe.” He stated, earning a groan from George before he disconnected. </p><p>He smiled gently, reeling a bit from the details of what he had just experienced. He remained bent at the waist, his elbow resting in his knee to support his weight. His mind buzzing with thoughts of George.</p><p> Consciously, his fingers lifting anxiously to his lips, masking his smile, slowly coming down from his excitable high. Then he crashed. Dream welcomed the reality with reluctance and animosity, wishing to return to the previously pleasant interaction.</p><p> Abating, he sighed, as much as George made his heart pound, it was all temporary, and then he was once again alone. Regret soon filled him, and he crumbled down from his high completely. His fingers sought his hair, further leaning into his elbow’s support, squinting his eyes shut. The return of exhaustion nauseated him to the point he felt sick. </p><p>Not long after he concluded that sitting there without George immediately returned him to the mercy of his insomnia, which only worked to make him desire his friend’s company more- if only to alleviate him awhile longer. Dream supposed George worked to help anchor him to the waking world, and without him, he fell victim to his hallucinations. Still, he came to the general consensus that these findings didn’t help him. Dream slowly drew his fatigued green eyes up, greeting the familiarity of the recurring spinning room. The drunken spell the sight invoked in him was hypnotizing and somewhat beguiling. </p><p>Full of penitence, Dream withered at the feeling of a tender hand caressing the arch of his shoulder. His jaw was latching hard, and he began to grit his teeth as if it would help ground him. He hated the feeling, the warmth of the specter behind him, and the way it so tenderly presented him the image of George. <em> As if he were here. </em>Dream’s bitter mind mocked, making fun of his desperate state. </p><p>“<em> Go away” </em>Dream grit out in a fraught attempt to free himself.</p><p> He couldn’t give himself to his mind, Not with how much is risked. George’s friendship was worth the feeling that gnawed at Dream’s mind. Talking to his friend just now had made him satisfied for the next decade; In a disparate feeling, these hallucinations of his taboo desires instead only shredded him apart. it was so unfair to George that he had no idea, but Dream couldn’t imagine uttering the words. </p><p>His mind further imprisoned him, making his breath quiver as George’s slender fingers moved under Dream’s scruffy chin and caressed his bottom lip. Dream relented enough to allow his head to be lifted, George’s familiar doe-like eyes staring holes into his sullen heart. His head pounded as he took in the image of his friend. With the room shifting around George, Dream almost felt like he was staring at a God, encased in the beauty of a turbulent galaxy. Despite himself, Dream leaned into his chair to better observe the apparition of his friend. He took notice immediately, the white of his room seemed to reflect off George, making him look almost too good to be true, to be <b>real.</b></p><p>
  <em> Because he was… </em>
</p><p>“<em> Dream, we both know you’d never settle.” </em>It was his voice… his endearing accent, his infectious words. Dream steeled himself harshly, yet winced at his words, agreeing despite himself that his fatal flaw was mutually realized. Mournfully, he stared at George’s gentle face, his slight dimples and tender smile. So much like George.</p><p> It tormented him. </p><p>Dream ripped free of his thoughts in a last-ditch attempt and grabbed George’s hand, shoved it away. Agitated, he swung in the chair to face the entity entirely and immediately regretted it. He was left to drink in the sight of George in the black hoodie, similarly branded as his merchandise. Dream crumbled,  “<em> Please,” </em> He forced out as if the plea choked him; he could hardly breathe, let alone talk. “ <em> Stop tormenting me.” </em>His voice quivered as he fought himself and the surreal image of his crush. </p><p>Unabiding, George did not leave. Instead, his slender hand reached the short distance and cradled either side of Dream's face. Promptly turning Dreams brittle walls to melted wax. Dream’s heart skipped a beat as the soft palms cradled his face and tears formed in his eyes to express his frustration. Against his better judgment, he turned and kissed George’s palm gently. Seemingly, Dream concluded that if he couldn’t escape his mind, he couldn’t escape George.</p><p>Compuctiously, felt himself surrender further to his torment, breath now mingled with George’s. His lashes tickled his cheek as his eyes ventured, witnessing the closeness of George's tender lips. If Dream so much as lean forward he might very well kiss him. </p><p> As the mirage of his friend drew himself nearer, Dream finally gave in, accepting this now as a gift. His hands reached, and unlike last time, he grabbed either side of George’s waist--as if it was practiced, pulling him onto his lap. For a moment, Dream saw the nervousness and fright pass the expression of George’s face as if he was real. It soon ebbed, George then submitted to Dream- both succumbing.</p><p>Dream realized how desperately he wanted George now-- He wanted to feel his warmth heat his hands, wanted to be caressed by George’s calming breaths, and be comforted by his familiar voice. </p><p>Especially at the moment, He wanted George to say his name in between bated breath.  </p><p>Dream looked into those somber eyes and let out a shaky breath, his one hand moving to groom along George’s jaw, into his hair. Cradling his head, Dream felt his heart relax with George’s calming demeanor, but also twist painfully with the glorified affection he felt.  It was inescapable, and for a long moment he wished he could stay in this realm-- where George was finally his. </p><p>Dream pulled away his hand reluctantly, promising himself it wouldn't last. His timid hands fluttered down the warm of George’s torso and groped his hips, digging in his fingers. The noise he elicited set Dream on fire, and his eagerness grew. Inspired by the sweet sound he tugged, pulling George further up his lap so they fit snugly against one another. </p><p> George responded endearingly, and Dream rewarded it by loosening his palms, permitting George to guide of his wrists to him. Dream's body leapt with excitement, watching expectantly as George kissed the tips of his fingers. The embarrassing noise of desperation-- a plea to stay- left Dream’s lips as he found himself entrapped on George's every action, sitting on bated breath. George lowered his hand after a long moment, and while Dream was momentarily disappointed, It was rekindled in excitement as the soft lips greeted his throat. </p><p>George then trailed a line to Dream’s sturdy jaw, his chin, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, and with little hesitance sat before his lips. Dream felt his fingers return with fervor into the imprints he left on George’s hips. Dream faltered, and paled when George shifted and placed his arms on Dream’s shoulders, staring intently at him. His eyes flickered down to Dream’s lips. Dream anticipated the feeling, needed to know what it was like to kiss him, to hold him, and to be able to have him for his own. His breaths panted against George’s, and he stared at George’s lips, running his tongue over the back of his teeth. </p><p>“Kiss me.” George hissed in a low, desperate tone. </p><p>Dream gave in. If he could never indulge himself in real life, this feeling would be enough to sate him for the time being. Dream’s lips pressed fretfully to George’s at first, his fingers digging painfully into his hips as he kissed him. George dipping down to accept him fully, accompanied by a soft whimper as he reacted to the feeling of Dream’s rough hands. </p><p>
  <em> Want me. Accept me. Let me.  </em>
</p><p>Dream again couldn’t fight another whine before that left his lips. Invoked as George grabbed handfuls of his shirt, balling it in his slim hands, keeping Dream close to him. Dream’s excitement soared, wanting to have him, all of him, to himself. He elaborated mentally, admitting to himself he <em> wanted </em> George in every way, <em> thought </em> of him in any way, and <em> dreamt </em> of him even when sleep couldn’t grip him. </p><p>
  <em> Dreamt of him…  </em>
</p><p><em> Oh no… </em>dread spearheaded any other feeling, “George-” He hardly managed to whisper, drawing back. Tears now brimming his eyes as his emotional rollercoaster plummeted him, the euphoria giving way to wrenching realization. </p><p>Here he was, indulging in his imagination as if he was <em> really </em> holding onto the warmth of his friend for dear life. He was pandering himself with these false moments of kissing his lips, and basking in the glory his dangerous love offered him. </p><p>He didn’t stop the tears, looking painfully at the way the face of his persona drooped in the folds of George’s small body, as if it had any answers for him to hold onto. Dream even tried to reason this was real, noticing George smelled of pine and honey. A violent smile full of self-hate and agony contorted his face, his eyes reddened with tears. <em> Foolish. </em>He scolded himself, he couldn’t begin to imagine what George smelled like.</p><p>“Why can’t you be mine?” He suddenly gathered up the forced words, tainted with the dangerously delectable flavor of metallic. His hands currently balled in the loose fabric of George’s adorned hoodie, his knuckles so tightly clutched and starkly pale that it was painful. He looked up at George’s face, reaching desperately to cradle his sweet ivory jaw and kiss along the soft flesh until he had consumed every inch of him. But, as he moved to caress his face with his palm-- </p><p>George abandoned him in the dim light of his room. </p><p>Dream’s arms fell to his side, and his chest puffed out breaths of desperation, tears coming full-spring from the leaking faucets of his eyes. He slumped back in his chair, limp, head leaned lazily to the side as he let his face redden with rage and frustration. Again, he was terribly alone… yet, he wanted to scream. </p><p>But what was the point if no one would hear? </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hahhhaaaa funny man has the funny insomnia wet dream session.<br/>Angsty Dre is v fun to write, I hope that's acceptable.<br/>Also, please note that this chapter will probably be fixed</p><p>d at some point lmk what you think to, Ive been told I'm wordy lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Other Side of Paradise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dear god this is so incredibly late. </p><p>Oh well, </p><p>here's your food you hungry DNF'ers. I had a lot of fun with this chapter and kinda just evolving Dream's understanding of his silly crush culture. </p><p>Enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> He wanted to scream, but what was the point if no one would hear?  </em>
</p><p>Dream shifted onto his stomach from where he had moved to his bed, basking in the cool warmth of a regular winter in Florida. His brows furrowed with concentration as he attempted to level with reality. </p><p>How was he supposed to deal with George being here in two weeks -- seeing him, talking to him, living with him? His facade of simple friendship had only succeeded so far because of his hidden face. George standing before him would be a sensory overload. The thought filled his stomach with butterflies made of equal excitement and fear. </p><p><em> Surely it won't be that hard, </em> he vainly reassured himself. <em> I'm me. I’m </em> <b> <em>Dream.</em> </b></p><p>Frustrated, Dream turned his nose into his pillow and huffed a hot breath. He knew he relied on a confident persona too much, but Dream could admit attentive older audience members likely caught onto the moments where the mask of self-assurance slipped. </p><p>His thoughts turned to his recent episodes of insomnia -- George offering him the white smiley mask and Dream abandoning it in favor of the man he had fallen for. Dream would do it, if given the chance in real life. If a face reveal was all it took to be with George, he'd be damned if he didn’t do a photoshoot right now. </p><p>Dream drew his lip into his mouth and thought about it -- about George seeing his face. George smiling at him, holding him, kissing him. Dream closed his eyes with a tired sigh. For the sake of his own sanity, he needed to abandon this overwhelming addiction to his friend. </p><p>His fingers reached for his phone and he reluctantly looked through his text. He considered messaging George but abandoned the thought, scrolling down further. He flipped onto his back, rubbing his forehead as he dialed the contact. </p><p>“That was a train wreck," the sassy tone quipped, earning a slight smirk from Dream.</p><p>“Oh yeah? Try doing better on less than four days of sleep,” Dream shot back, suddenly full of the fire Sapnap tended to bring out in him. </p><p>“Four days…" Sapnap’s tone had uncomfortable weight. “Clay, have you thought about getting help? It’s not healthy, man. You usually sleep well.” </p><p>"Gamer lifestyle is no sleep, isn't it? Maybe it’s just the new me.” Dream said, his voice dripping with  wary sarcasm. He could feel Sapnap’s concern, but he was hesitant to worry him further. </p><p>“I know the official final move-in date is a while away, but I can come early if you need someone,” Sapnap proposed kindly.</p><p>Dream’s breath left him. He did miss Sapnap being around -- more than even Sapnap knew. He meant to say something heartfelt along those lines, but instead, his current worry blurted from his mouth. “He's coming in two weeks.” His eyelids fluttered nervously as he awaited a response from his friend. </p><p>“George?” Sapnap clarified.</p><p>“Yeah.” Dream affirmed quietly.</p><p>“That’s a good thing, isn't it?” Sapnap prodded, apparently confused by the enervated nature of Dream's usually unabashed tone. </p><p>“I just…” Dream couldn’t find the words. "I dunno."</p><p>“Are you worried it won’t meet your expectations?” Sapnap tried to lead him, but Dream’s chest compressed itself, clutching down on his breathing, and he shifted uncomfortably on his bed, kicking off his blankets.  </p><p>“That’s the issue,” Dream sat up and hunched, his legs tucking to the side and under him. “I have <em> no </em> idea what to expect.” His hands shook minutely. He knew what he <em> wanted, </em> sure, but he didn’t make him anywhere near prepared. He was terrified of going in blind. </p><p>Sapnap went viably silent on his end, leaving Dream to ruminate for a moment in silence. Dream’s hand went to his hair, tugging insistently at it, his breaths heavy. He needed to calm down. </p><p>He dropped the phone from his ear and stared at Sapnap's contact photo, as still and patient as the real thing, waiting silently on the other end as Dream fought his mind. He was losing himself. </p><p>“Clay?" Sapnap prompted.</p><p>“I'm here.” Dream said with bated breath, shifting the phone back to his ear.</p><p>“Remember when we met?” Sapnap said, and Dream smiled, relieved in his shift in conversation. </p><p>“Yeah…” He murmured, laying back into the bed, the memory flooding the forefront of his mind. </p><p>“It didn’t go how we assumed,” Sapnap reminisced. </p><p>His friend wasn’t wrong -- the meeting they had expected to be awkward became one of gleeful tears and hugs and immediate demands for Dream to kiss his younger friend. Dream laughed brightly; Sapnap, probably remembering similarly, joined. They were so much younger then. </p><p>“You’re right,” Dream admitted with a smile.</p><p>Sapnap's cheesy grin was audible. “Me? <em> Right? </em> Who are you and what did you do with Dream?” He said, winning a chuckle. Dream felt himself relax as Sapnap continued. "It'll be the same with you and George, man. You two meeting -- it's going to be big, I won't lie.” Sapnap paused thoughtfully. “But I think it’s gonna go well. Maybe it'll be all you hoped for. You two really click.” </p><p>Dream smiled fleetingly. <em> We click? </em>“What do you mean by that -- we 'click'?” </p><p>“What do you think I mean?” The way the words rolled off Sapnap's tongue with a very Dream-like ambiguity startled Dream. </p><p>“Do you know something I don't?” Dream asked curiously, phrasing his words as if stepping on eggshells. </p><p>“Dream…” The name drop was supposed to pull him back from the very personal conversation, but instead Dream found himself recognizing Sapnap’s inevitable tone. It was enough to set him off, his finger hovering over the hang-up, but hesitated. </p><p>No. </p><p>Sapnap didn’t deserve that. </p><p>“Say it.” Dream suddenly sputtered. </p><p>It startled Sapnap into accusing, “George is the reason these episodes are happening, isn't he.” </p><p>Dream's jaw tightened. “That’s absurd.” He argued immediately, knowing full well Sapnap had accurately summed up the situation.</p><p>“I don't think it is.” Sapnap's retort was matter-of-fact. </p><p>Feeling like a coward, Dream wanted to scream and laugh at the same time. He felt anger bubble in his throat and he suppressed it with flourish, then settled back against his headboard, scooting up his bed. Patches gave him a look from her spot to his left, but didn’t complain much at his movement, as it had yet to physically disturb her. </p><p>Neither Sapnap or Dream would vocalize it, so it wasn’t real, right? These complicated emotions keeping Dream from sleeping. Proclaiming something as profound as what he believed he felt for George should be easy. Especially for him, the man in the smiley mask. </p><p><em> Fuck the mask. </em>Dream’s stomach rolled over at the memory. Of desperation and nearly kissing those sweet lips.</p><p>Dream caught himself, and allowed a dark chuckle. <em> For a guy who has had four girlfriends, you sure are inexperienced. </em> Dream prodded his pride like an angry flame, hoping it would fuel a fire of words to pour out. None came. He had never dated or fallen for a man before. Dream had never truly dedicated himself to labeling his sexuality, he had always had a feeling he wasn’t quite straight. <em> But George… </em>Dream crooned his head in internal battle. George was the factor he couldn’t account for, proof of his dually-bladed affections. </p><p>“What does it matter, whether it has to do with George or not?” Dream said irritably.</p><p>“You have to tell him, Clay. He’s going to be <em> in your house. </em>What if you slip up?"</p><p>Dream groaned his frustration. "Do I really seem that impulsive?” </p><p>Sapnap snorted, bitterly. "Yes." </p><p>Dream threw his free hand into the air in resignation. Maybe Sapnap had a point. “I just -- what if it's awkward?” He pressed, his fingers turning white as they clutched around his phone. </p><p>“What if he feels the same?” Sapnap shot back, catching Dream by surprise. </p><p>A montage of images flashed through Dream's mind, taunting him: George, gently kissing his features, settling in bed beside him, holding onto his every word with unadulterated affection… </p><p>Dream asked tentatively, “You think there's a chance?” </p><p>“You'll never know unless you take it,” Sapnap advised cautiously, his tone suggesting he had to be careful with what he said to Dream. “Anyways, maybe having George nearby will let you sleep.” Sapnap offered on a positive note. </p><p>Dream grumbled in response. The image of George laying beside him in bed again sprung to mind. “Or he’ll make it worse.” </p><p>Sapnap sighed and shifted around. “I wouldn’t worry much. We're all best friends, Dream. It’s bound to work out.” He said comfortingly. </p><p>Dream let out a reluctant chuckle. “When did I make you my therapist?” He sighed out.</p><p>Sapnap laughed. “When you started calling me after every insomnia session. It's touching, by the way,” he added, his humor turning more Sapnap-esque. </p><p>Dream smiled a bit, missing his friend even more. He wished Sapnap hadn’t had to go back to Texas -- he wished they all just lived together. <em> Maybe someday, </em>he assured himself. </p><p>Comfortable silence passed between them. Dream leaned into the comfort of his mattress, his free hand idly taking a fistful of his sheets. He finally asked, trusting Sapnap to know what he was talking about, “How are you not surprised?"</p><p>“You’re easier to read than you think, greenie,” Sapnap said, warmth in the hearth of his tone. </p><p>Dream felt...understood. With a smile, Dream supposed there was a pretty good reason to keep Sapnap around after all. </p><p>“Bye.” He said softly.</p><p>There was a smile in Sapnap's voice, and relief that Dream was leaving the call in a better state of mind. “Seeya.” </p><p>
  <b>Call ended. </b>
</p><p>Dream slumped down and closed his eyes, shaky breathing ebbing into long, slow breaths. More than anything, he was incredibly grateful for his friends. </p><p><em> Thank you, </em> he graciously typed to Sapnap. With a grin, he tacked on: <em> love you :P </em></p><p>Sapnap responded: <em> don’t push it.  </em></p><p>As their conversation finally closed, Dream's thoughts revolved back to George. He realized, suddenly, that while he and George were now intent on their visit, they hadn’t purchased tickets. Dream left his bed with a reluctant, throaty noise, stumbling to his computer. He popped open a new tab, searching for flight options. </p><p><em> Five weeks, six weeks... </em> Dream scrolled through the options, brow furrowing, <em> Four months… </em>Getting further away from the goal, he filtered the search results for times nearest to the current date. </p><p>
  <em> One week from today. </em>
</p><p>Dream quivered at the thought. It dawned on him -- the sooner the better. If George came to Florida and somehow resolved his sleeplessness…</p><p>His hand absentmindedly reached for his phone in order to take a picture of the few available options on his screen. He added a message below: <em> Are you busy next week? </em></p><p>Dream immediately wanted to throw the device. He was insane to rush. But was it rushing if they had dreamt of this for so long…? All three of them had -- Dream, George, and Sapnap -- but Sapnap was finalizing things before he officially moved to Orlando to live with Dream. </p><p>Dream jumped a little when his phone buzzed. He hurried to read the message: <em> Book it. I’ll make the arrangements here. </em></p><p>Dream’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. George in his house. In his clothes. In <em> his </em> room <em> . </em> In <em> his </em>bed. Dream's palms trembled, cold with sweat.</p><p>He was on his feet in an instant, nervous energy bursting in his veins. He grasped at the edge of his desk in an aborted mannerism for control. Breath wavering, he rushed to stretch a hand to the mouse. He quickly breezed through booking the flight, not thinking twice to ask George if he had the means to pay. Dream would pay in a minute; fuck, he’d get him first class, anything to have him <em> here.  </em></p><p>Dream thoughtfully turned his eyes to the window, squinting in spite of the partly-cloudy weather. He was acting so unlike himself; guilt blossomed like a colorful fruit in the basin of his gut. It was almost immediately canceled out by the thought of <em> finally </em> seeing George, having him <em> near -- </em>it was enough. </p><p>He turned back and saved the PDF, linking it over messenger to George. With two taps George had received his ticket, and the churning in Dream's stomach finally let up, freeing him from his George-induced prison. </p><p>With this sudden clarity, Dream noted a new feeling: hunger. He sincerely couldn't remember eating for at least the past day and a half. </p><p>The further he got from his bedroom, his computer, and his manifested persona, the more Dream felt like Clay. He rummaged through the fridge with an empty mind, relaxed by the normalcy of life. </p><p>He hiked up his sleeves and grabbed a bag of pizza rolls. Dream felt his eyes glaze over, filmy from hours of turmoil and blue light. He stared at the bag for a considerable amount of time, letting the cold seep into his fingertips, before kicking the freezer shut and snatching a plate from the cupboard. Without thinking much about it, Dream stacked what looked like three double servings onto the plate and stuck it in the microwave. </p><p>Dream leaned against the counter as the microwave whirred, a small smile creeping across his face as he visited a place of fantasy, imagining George and Sapnap standing across from him, chattering and bickering as they impatiently awaited the rolls spinning in the microwave over Dream's head.</p><p>His fingers gripped the counter as Dream fought to grip reality. He didn't make a very inspired attempt, content to indulge in images of his favorite people. The thought of George shamelessly dressed in his clothes came to mind, a stolen t-shirt three sizes too big and a pair of basketball shorts that made George look adorably small. </p><p>If he and George <em> were </em> to date -- <em> if -- </em> Dream wondered how the three of them could possibly get past that. Sapnap would relish the ability to tease them. Dream could practically <em> hear </em> the commentary -- "If only you would kiss me like you kiss George, Dream!"</p><p><em> Kissing George. </em>A blush spread over Dream's face as he considered it. </p><p>Dream tilted his head to the side and his fingers reached across the quartz island, spreading until they pressed flat. His brow twitched thoughtfully. Would George’s small hand be able to wrap around the slightly-larger-than-average width of his own? His palms itched, seemingly delighted at the idea of George trying. </p><p>Perhaps he could turn his palm up and George’s slender fingers would interlock with his, a contact that would anchor Dream while they chatted gleefully with Sapnap about future plans or some dumb shit they read on twitter. </p><p>Dream chin dropped to his chest, pitying himself as he wished for such a day, such a future. He came to his senses at the ring of the microwave, but the thoughts of fantasy did not completely wash from his mind. Perhaps he was coming to even accept them, judging by the way his lips tilted up and hope overrode the hate he had adorned to himself. </p><p>“Maybe…” Dream murmured, allowing hope to envelope him as he popped a pizza roll into his mouth.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dang! a WEEK. George and Dreamie in the house in a week. </p><p>I wish this was IRL am I right folks? (joking) </p><p>But yeah, next chapter has more fun spice for ur lives as we work up to the actual meet. For now- enjoy!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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